I am Half-Sick of Shadows

On a long day of lovemaking,
You fed me orange sections
In a morning break.
They were commas between
Two phrases of a love poem.
Now I am floating on your citrus breath,
I slake my thirst on your orange juicy kisses,
Giving that tangy taste to all our fluids.
As you press your navel-scented
Prints into my flesh,
Marking your territory,
You massaged my skin,
Licking your fingertips -
The way readers thumb
Through a book -
and tongued the corners,
Dog-earing so many places
You wish to return to later
For a deeper understanding.

Now when I pass a fruit stand,
How am I suppose to
Hide my excitement?